Why can a perfectly okay day be taken in such a downward spiral in a mere hour? Why can't you draw a perfectly fine line in the place you want? Why is there such a long distance from your brain to your fingers all of the sudden? I doesn't have to be perfect. Or straight. Or even exact. Just enough. Enough like how you want it to work with it.

SO WHY THE @#(% CAN'T I DO IT?!

Art and I aren't friends at the moment. And, like always, it seems I'll just have to wait it out, until my brain and fingers decide to work together again. I want to draw. Which is surprising. I want to color and experiment and express. It's like my sight has been taken away when I can't. My sight and my voice. I can't scream, even. Just drown and choke until my muse takes pity on me and pulls my head above the water for another little while.